Chapter 13
For outdoor variety shows, everyone is equipped with personal mics ahead of time, which are those furry little balls often seen clipped to the guests' collars. The device is secured at the lower back, hidden once the clothes are let down.
The whispered conversation between Berlin and Wu Hengyao was, of course, clearly picked up as well.
The director commented, “…Teacher Wu is still as humorous as ever.”
The Skye group, due to their exceptionally high looks, often gave off a god-like, unattainable vibe at first glance. But once you got to know them, you'd realize none of the five were the type to be placed on a pedestal. They all had their own sense of humor, especially when it came to throwing out a cold joke unexpectedly to amuse Lin.
In stand-up comedy, not every duo can spark chemistry between the "funny man" and the "straight man," but every member of Skye could easily fool Berlin.
The first time the director worked with Skye for a variety show, he quickly discovered that Berlin seemed to be a bit gullible.
No matter how outrageous the joke, Berlin would sincerely believe in it, looking completely dumbfounded as his teammates tricked him.
When Skye’s inside jokes trended on social media, fans would humorously crowd the real-time feed with memes: \[I’m getting cocky, starting to think I can lure little Lin away with just a piece of candy.\] x10086.
Berlin, unfairly judged by public opinion, would think to himself: *Everyone else is drunk, and I alone am sober. I just have to endure some light-hearted teasing. Not explaining myself is my greatest kindness.*
According to the show’s schedule, Li Guangmin was the first to demonstrate the challenge.
He candidly admitted beforehand, “I can’t guarantee I’ll succeed on the first try.”
Archery, much like playing ball, relies on technique, but also the feel of the moment.
Jiang Shuran, the most official public face of Skye, nodded along with Li Guangmin’s words, understanding the subtext: “I get it.”
Since it was Li Guangmin’s challenge, no one hoped for success more than him. If he succeeded, it would also help boost his reputation through the show.
Berlin noticed Li Guangmin’s concern and waved to encourage him, “Teacher, good luck!”
Li Guangmin steadied his breath, exhaled, inhaled, and drew his bow.
The arrow left the bowstring like a streak of light, smoothly passing through the coin-sized hole 15 meters away, and fiercely struck the second dice stacked in the middle. The top dice naturally fell, slightly shifting backward from the arrow’s wind, but in the end, it landed steadily on the bottom dice.
In perfect form, Li Guangmin performed flawlessly at the crucial moment.
He exhaled, smiling at Berlin, “Now, it’s your turn.”
Berlin curiously raised his hand, “Teacher Li, can I ask how long it took you to go from trying to completing this challenge?”
“It’s hard to say. My situation is different from yours, so it’s not really a reference.” Li Guangmin thought earnestly before replying, without any arrogance or exaggeration. “I joined a youth training team when I was young, practiced archery for over ten years, and have a solid foundation with a lot of competition experience. After retiring, I wasn’t interested in coaching, so I started exploring fresh, interesting ways to promote archery to the public, which led to these diverse challenges.”
Berlin nodded, “Got it.”
While the two were speaking, the other team members had already begun selecting their bows.
Wu Hengyao’s words still echoed in Berlin’s mind. As he watched his teammates one by one pick up compound bows, a rare trace of concern appeared on his face—not that he doubted their ability to complete the challenge, but he was worried that Mong Kok City might not survive the ordeal.
As a peaceful and thriving tourist city, Mong Kok didn’t deserve such a fate.
Berlin, with hands behind his back, cautiously approached, glancing nervously to his left at Hua Yan, who was inspecting a bow, and then to his right at Han Yuzhe, who was thoughtfully weighing the bow’s weight and slowly placing his hand on the string.
Sensing Berlin’s gaze, Hua Yan glanced down at him, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll go first.”
Berlin covered his personal mic with his hand, tugged slightly at the corner of Hua Yan’s shirt, and when Hua Yan leaned closer, he whispered nervously, “... Are you sure this will be okay?”
Hua Yan’s almond-shaped eyes lifted slightly, and he gave a casual, understated smile. “Yep.”
Berlin hesitated as he let go and silently watched Hua Yan pick a random spot to get ready. He then poked Wu Hengyao, who was standing next to him, and began to doubt, “You can control this, right? You all can, right?”
Wu Hengyao’s golden hair gleamed in the sunlight as he smirked lazily, curling one corner of his lips. “You guess.”
Berlin: “...”
*I’m a real person, and you're worse than a real dog.*
He quickly recited the Great Compassion Mantra in his heart: *Buddha, please bless Mong Kok City. I vow to renew my VIP membership for another year as a sign of my devotion.*
Following the director’s instructions, each Skye member was to take turns trying the challenge first, allowing for multi-angle camera shots and easier editing later. After the first attempt, to save time and improve efficiency, they could practice simultaneously.
Not only Berlin’s eyes were on Hua Yan, but cameras from every direction were also focused on him.
The director hadn’t imposed any strict dress code on Skye, and Hua Yan wasn’t a fan of athletic wear. He still dressed like an idol: an open-collared floral shirt, earrings, necklace, rings. His pale, slender fingers drew the bow, and as they moved, the silver bracelet hanging from his wrist gently swayed, reflecting the dazzling sunlight.
Hua Yan didn’t like sunlight.
He squinted, narrowing his eyes into slits, feeling as if his exposed skin was burning under the heat—not enough to cause real harm, but enough to make him uncomfortable.
He had been standing near the compound bow rack earlier, where a temporary canopy offered some shade, however minimal.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over his head, shielding him from the harsh sunlight.
Hua Yan turned his head.
Berlin stood half a step behind him, holding a sun umbrella, carefully lifting it to block the glaring light.
Hua Yan had actually heard him earlier when Berlin explained to the staff that Hua Yan had a mild sun allergy and borrowed the umbrella. So, instead of shooting the arrow right away, Hua Yan pretended to be aiming, patiently waiting for Berlin to run over.
When Hua Yan turned to look at him, Berlin gave a slightly goofy smile and reminded him, “The compound bow doubles its strength.”
Standing under the umbrella, Hua Yan’s gaze swept over Berlin’s sunlit face. “Oh.”
His posture was relaxed and casual. He didn’t follow Li Guangmin’s instructions on how to stand. Now under the shade, his entire demeanor exuded a lazy, decadent vibe.
The loose sleeves of his shirt slid down as he moved, revealing a smooth, graceful line of muscle.
*Whoosh.*
The arrow moved so fast that Berlin could only see a sharp arc with his naked eye, unstoppable in its momentum. It was so swift that the coin seemed to have delayed in reacting to the arrow passing through, trembling slightly after a moment.
The cameraman had a clearer view.
Earlier, when Li Guangmin shot, he had only knocked down the middle dice, damaging the surface but leaving the dice mostly intact.
But Hua Yan’s arrow was incredibly sharp, its force so fierce that it pierced through the dice in an instant.
The arrow carried the dice several meters away before landing. The dice that rolled on the ground had a hole perfectly matching the shape of the arrow, with smooth edges, and no cracks except at the point of impact.
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